


The Return

by esteoflorien



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F, Gen, Mirandy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-11 22:36:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1178780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteoflorien/pseuds/esteoflorien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andrea Sachs was the last person Miranda and Cassidy expected to see at Caroline's ballet recital.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Return

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rosalinde26 (tumblr)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=rosalinde26+%28tumblr%29).



“ _Andrea?”_ It had been three weeks since she’d seen her, three weeks since Andrea had left the townhouse.

“Did you miss me, Miranda?” She was at once terribly quiet and utterly presumptuous, and, much to Miranda’s frustration, a bit endearing in her uncertainty. It hadn’t ended well, of course; it had ended horribly, in a clatter of slammed doors and wild screaming and floods of tears and sleepless nights. For once, she hadn’t been the relationship’s undoing, and she’d felt completely adrift. She had found – perversely, or so her therapist said – some comfort in always knowing that her own behavior or priorities had been the downfall of her relationships. This time, it had been Andrea who had ended it: Andrea who had snuck around, Andrea who had taken back up with her insignificant little bore of a boyfriend, Andrea who had needed to _figure things out, Miranda! Nate and I were going to get married before I met_ you _!_ The words stung, her daughters cried bitter tears, and Andrea went off to ‘figure things out.’

Miranda didn’t begrudge her the time to sort through her own feelings; even she could admit that they should have taken more care at the very beginning. And perhaps, if Andrea had picked a better moment and she’d kept a rein on her temper and Andrea hadn’t gotten so _angry_ , so welled up with what seemed like months of pent-up frustration exploding all at once, things might have been far more cordial than they currently were.

“That’s far from what I want to hear, Andrea,” she said, and marveled at how easily her professional tone came to her, how readily she slipped into Runway. Beside her, Cassidy tossed her hair, but snuck her hand into Miranda’s. “What are you doing here?”

Andrea brushed at her bangs and tucked the ends behind her ears; she needed a new cut. “I promised Caroline I would come to the recital.”

“That was before you ran out on mom with some _guy_ ,” Cassidy said, in a perfectly civil tone edged with steel that Miranda couldn’t help but admire.

“It isn’t appropriate for you to be here, Andrea,” Miranda said. “Today is Caroline’s day.” It occurred to her, watching Andrea’s face fall, that she wouldn’t ever have said such a thing before their relationship; before Andrea, she scheduled her daughters into her diary like any other obligation.

“Of course,” Andrea said. “You’re right, I shouldn’t have come.” A pause. “I just wanted to see you. I made a mistake and you deserve a real apology.”

“My daughter’s ballet recital is hardly the place for that.”

“I missed the girls,” Andrea said simply. “I really do.” _And they miss you_ , Miranda thought, feeling Cassidy stiffen beside her. _They cried and asked questions I couldn’t answer and cared far more for you than they did for any of the others, and you left._

They had been a family, the four of them together. There had been days out wandering the city – afternoons at Central Park, hours spent at the Strand, trips to museums and the zoo. They’d eaten hot dogs on the street and waited in line – _waited in line!_ – for cupcakes at Magnolia. And the fun part, so she had learned, had actually been the waiting itself.

“I think we should meet, first,” Miranda said. “And then I’ll speak with the girls.”

“Okay,” Andrea said. “Thank you, I’d love that. I’ll – “

It hovered on the tip of her tongue. _Call Emily_. There was a new Emily, after all. It would be so easy, a little jab, an indignity that she deserved, having to call Emily to arrange a lunch date.

“No, I’ll message you once we’re home,” Miranda said. “I’ll need to consult my schedule, and it’s at home.”

Andrea smiled, a genuine, relieved smile. “Thank you, Miranda. I don’t deserve it –“

“No, you don’t!” Cassidy piped up. Miranda looked down at her daughter. Tears were brimming in Cassidy’s eyes, and her bottom lip was trembling. All of a sudden, her almost-high schooler looked impossibly young.

“I don’t, Cassidy,” Andrea agreed. “I’m so sorry for what I did to you.”

Cassidy bit her lip. “But I’m glad you’re going to see mom.”

“So am I,” Miranda replied, and found, watching Andrea smile and tiptoe out of the auditorium, that she believed it.


End file.
